


We Could Stay

by kalliel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's Deal, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Gen, Horror, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalliel/pseuds/kalliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam can still feel the .45 in his hand, the recoil as he puts a bullet through Dean's skull and the plasterboard behind him. </p><p>It would have been an impressive shot if Sam could bring himself to care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Stay

All Dean says is, "We could stay."

Sam spits toothpaste onto the mirror, nearly jams the toothbrush down his throat. Dean averts his gaze with an exaggerated surreptitiousness and cranks up the Asia.

When Sam has generally recovered, flecks of toothpaste froth wiped away and a few paper cup shots of water downed, he says, "What is that supposed to mean? You mean like, oh the magical Groundhog Day merry-go-'round is so fun, let's never get off? You _die_ , Dean. I watch you die, I--"

"You'll always know what's coming."

Sam should be inured to Dean's facetious commentaries on their lives by this point; he really should. And he is. He is. But it's already his fifty-fourth Tuesday, and Sam is beginning to think that some small part of what gets Dean up in the morning is starting to take those words to heart. 

"Fine, don't help. Go back to sleep. I'll get you out by myself. Out of the Mystery Spot, out of your Deal, out of all this _shit_. Just don't touch anything."

 

\--

 

It's only his fifty-fifth Tuesday when the couple in the adjoining room scream bloody murder, quail at the bullet holes in the cheap plasterboard above their honeymoon bed, and dial 911. Sam doesn't have time to drop the gun--or even open his eyes--before he wakes up again, and Asia is blaring again, and Dean is singing even louder than that.

_We could stay._

Sam can taste copper at the back of his throat.

"You die in your sleep or something? Give me a yes or no, because if you did, I want to haul your corpsified ass out to the Dumpster before we acquire an audience. Don't want to be tagged for necro or nothing; wanna stay here, not get road-hauled or whatever it is law enforcement does here. I'm digging the wallpaper. Hey, dude--I'm not kidding. Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

Sam can stil feel the .45 in his hand, the recoil as he puts a bullet through Dean's skull and the plasterboard behind him. It would have been an impressive shot if Sam could bring himself to care.

So maybe they should--maybe they should stay. Dean dies every day. _But Dean comes back._ He wakes up (for good; he wakes up and this curse or this time-space anomaly or whatever the hell this is lifts), and in three months, Dean is gone forever.

_We could stay._

"Breakfast's waiting, Sammy."


End file.
